


and now he's so devoid of color he don't know what it means

by VolxdoSioda



Series: Whumptober 2018 (Complete) [3]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Delayed Grieving, Gen, Grieving, Hurt/Eventual Comfort, Noctis isn't okay, Whumptober, day 3 - insomnia, let grown men cry 2018, mental deterioration
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-04
Updated: 2018-10-04
Packaged: 2019-07-25 01:12:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16186985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VolxdoSioda/pseuds/VolxdoSioda
Summary: When Regis dies, Noctis stops sleeping.When Jared dies, Noctis leaves the havens at night to hunt.When Luna dies, Noctis finally admits he's not okay.Grieving is an ugly process, and sometimes it takes being broken in the worst ways to finally admit you need help.





	and now he's so devoid of color he don't know what it means

**Author's Note:**

> Finally got caught up. Sorry if this one turned out really vague and not really... comprehensive? I'm trying something a bit different here, so.

After his dad dies, Noctis loses his ability to sleep. 

At first, it's a few hours here and there. Waking up in the middle of the night, or a couple hours before Ignis in the morning. And then it's trying and struggling to get even an hour of sleep. And then it's just. Not even feeling tired enough to lay down.

Well, no, that's not quite right. He's  _tired._ He's exhausted, so much so he feels like he wants to ask Gladio to hit him with his sword until he's unconcious. But he's not tired in the way that his body translates as 'time to go to sleep'. He's just tired. 

So he stays up, and tends to the campfire, and when he gets bored with that, he wanders around the haven. In circles, around and around, and sometimes he'll hold his arms out as he stares up at the sky and spins in a slow circle. Being dizzy kind of feels like he could sleep, but the feeling always slips away before he can do anything about it. 

Ignis looks surprised, the first few mornings he wakes to find Noctis already waiting with a piping hot pot of coffee for him, already on his own third mug. "Morning Specs," he greets quietly.

He helps make breakfast, because why not? It's not like he's got anything else going on. His heart feels like it's beating too fast and his head feels dizzy and he wants to lay down, but he knows sleep is beyond him. Maybe his dad took his sleep away as punishment for not being there when he died. For not being a good son, a good Prince. 

Or maybe his grief is just manifesting in the only way it's been allowed to.

Either way, Ignis is happy until it becomes apparent he isn't sleeping at all. Even Gladio, who was practically frothing at the mouth to  _finally_ have time to get his hands on Noctis' training schedule, starts frowning more and watching him when he fights. The two talk in low tones at night by the fire or in the early morning when Noctis is off relieving himself, and they watch him like they aren't quite sure what to say. 

"Noct," Ignis approaches the subject delicately, as if afraid to spook him. "Have you been getting enough rest?"

"Plenty," Noctis lies. "Too much, probably. What, you don't like my efforts in helping you cook? If it tastes bad, you don't have to eat it." He sips at his sixteenth cup of coffee. 

Ignis very gently curls hands around his cup and lowers it from his mouth. Looks at him in that pleading, earnest way he does that makes Noctis' chest ache because it means he's hurting Ignis, and that's unacceptable. "You've been up every morning for the past two weeks, and Gladio never hears you go to bed."

Ah. So that's what it is. "I'm fine, Specs."

"Noct--"

"I'm  _fine,_ " he says, and this time there's iron in his voice. "Drop it, Ignis."

Ignis looks like he wants to fight that order, but instead he gives in with a deep sigh. "As you wish, Noct. But I'm here if you need to talk to someone."

Evidently, they must drag Prompto into the know too, because not half an hour later he's watching Noctis beneath his lashes under the guise of fiddling with his camera settings. 

Noctis would be proud of the deception if he weren't so tired.

 

**_0-0-0-0-0-0-0_ **

 

If Regis' death makes him feel exhausted, Jared's death lights a fire under his tail.

The nights are long, too long now, and there are too many thoughts in his head. And so while the others sleep, Noctis leaves the havens, and takes the Regalia, and goes hunting. He takes down marks by himself - not the bigger ones, because he isn't suicidal. But multiple small ones? He can drive from one end of Duscae to Leide without issue in a night, and use the gil he earns to buy what they need. He uses it for curatives, for gas, for Ignis' food items. And always he makes sure he's back before Ignis or Gladio wake.

One night though, he doesn't quite make it back in time.

He pulls in to where they left the car to find he's missed sixty-two messages from his three friends in the last fifteen minutes.

And then a hand grabs his shoulder, yanking him up, and Gladio's face is inches from his own. "Where the  _fuck_ have you been, Noctis?!"

He blinks. He should probably be more terrified of the rage on his Shield's face, the not-quite-well-hidden fear, the disappointed look Ignis is sporting, or the sheer panic in Prompto's eyes, but all he can think is  _I didn't turn that  last hunt in, did I?_

"Around," he answers. 

Gladio almost looks like he wants to deck him. Instead, he settles for throwing Noctis back against the seats. "Bet you used up all the gas on your joyriding, didn't you?"

"Actually no. I just refilled the tank."

Ignis' stare gets harder. Heavier. "How did you pay for that?"

"With the hunt money I earned. Oh, and I got groceries too. They're in the back. That should be enough for you to make breakfast at least for a couple weeks, right?"

There's a kind of muted silence in answer to that, and then Gladio walks over and pops the trunk of the car, lifting it and staring down at the contents with an utterly blank face.

He closes the trunk and says, "You've been going hunting without us?"

"Only on small targets. Oh. Here's the last of the gil, by the way. Sorry if it's a little lighter than you were expecting - they raised the price of Phoenix Downs."

Ignis carefully takes the bag - which is about the size of a chocobo's head - and weighs it in his hand. "Noctis," he says with a kind of slow clarity, as if speaking to a child. "This is about thirty thousand gil."

"Eh, more twenty-eight. It  _was_ fifty-five, but like I said, they raised the price of the Downs. Plus I stopped by Lestallum's market and got you some of those spices you said you liked using. I got a can of each - did I need to get more?"

The bag rustles as Gladio pulls out two cans of spices that are about as large as a twelve pack of Ebony. Ignis looks at them, and then back to Noctis. And then back to the cans.

"I think," Ignis says, sounding wearier than Noctis has ever heard him, "I should like to drive for a bit."

"Okay."

The ride is silent. Noctis leans his head back against the seat and watches as the sky changes colors, and tries to think of the hunts he missed, and if more will become available.

They stop when dusk creeps up, but as they're getting out of the car, Ignis calls his name. 

"Yeah?"

In the low light of the sinking sun, Ignis somehow looks... taller. Sharper. The light gleams off his glasses, and his eyes are utterly devoid of anything. "Do not leave the campsite again, Noctis. Not to go on hunts, not to go shopping, not for anything. Do you understand?"

Noctis blinks. "Sure, I guess."

"And just so you don't go getting any ideas in that pretty little head of yours," Gladio practically snarls, "We'll know if you leave, Princess."

He doesn't understand their anger, but he shrugs and nods, and promises not to leave.

That night, he is not left alone beneath the stars. At first it's Ignis, sitting there across from the fire, watching him with a kind of shrewd gaze that Noctis knows means he's trying to pick Noctis apart with his mind. Trying to figure out what he's thinking. 

And then it's Gladio, watching him like a hunter watches prey, calm and patient as the desert itself. 

And finally it's Prompto, with a sharpshooter's gaze pinned to him, ready to make good on the unspoken words his elders had laid down.

Noctis doesn't understand, but he figures if he waits long enough, they'll forget and fall asleep. 

Eventually, they do. It's forty-five cycles of moon and sun later, but eventually they slip up. They forget to post a guard.

But Noctis has learned from his mistake. He'll leave the car.

He takes Albus instead.

He rides long into the night, his chocobo companion tirelessly striding through forest and over rock, until at last he lands outside the base where the man who killed Jared is said to be. 

Jared was Gladio's dearest companion, and his family's trusted friend. So if Noctis kills the man who killed Jared, it should make Gladio happy. 

He sneaks in, steathily killing every guard he comes across, and making his way to the top floor, where he finds Caligo Uldor, the man responsible, going over reports.

The man never even has time to scream.

 

**_0-0-0-0-0-0-0_ **

 

He leaves the base and goes to return to camp. Except he doesn't have to go far, because when the back doors open he finds himself blinded by headlights. Albus cries out beneath him, steadying when a hand grabs his reins. 

" _Noctis. Lucis. Caelum."_

Oh. Oh that's... that's Ignis. Oh. Uh oh.

They look livid, his friends. Gladio's the one who has him and Albus in hand, and Noctis can appreciate he's being nice to Albus. After all, it's not his fault Noctis left camp again. 

"I killed him, Gladio," he says. Half-pleading, half-proud. "The man who killed Jared. Caligo. I got him."

Gladio's teeth are clenched hard enough to bite through rock, a muscle in his jaw twitching. 

Once again, Noctis is confused. "Aren't you happy?"

"No," Gladio finally seethes out, and it feels like venom being sprayed on him. "Not even  _fucking remotely._ "

He gets his hands on Noctis' hips, pulls him from the saddle. 

"You were told, very explicitly,  _to stay inside camp._ What part of that did you not understand, Noctis?"

"But I--"

"Noct," Prompto says, and he sounds  _tired. "_ Just, quit it with the excuses, okay? What the hell's going on with you?"

"Huh?" Noctis frowns. 

Prompto raises his hands towards the sky. "What," he says loudly, "Is. Wrong. With. You?"

"First you refuse to sleep, now you're refusing to remain safe," Ignis says, and he sounds  _pissed._ Worse than his dad ever did. "You're recklessly charging off in the dead of night, fighting fiends you have no right, attacking  _enemy bases_ like it makes sense-- do you not see the fallacy of your own actions, Noctis?! Do you not see the danger you're putting yourself in?!"

He grabs Noctis by the shoulders, expression twisted into something like fear, something like anger, something that wants to be both but is trapped between. "Please I beg you, help me understand what's going on inside your head! If there's something you're trying to say, you merely need say it! Running off, risking your neck-- what are you trying to accomplish? Is it suicide? We can't help you if you say nothing, Noctis!"

Noctis just stares up at him. "Nothing," he says, and Gladio closes his eyes and Prompto looks pained, but it's Ignis blatant confusion he remembers most. "I don't... I'm not suicidal, Ignis. I'm just. Trying to take care of you guys. I get bored pacing circles, or staying in one spot. I'm awake all the time, so why not make use of it while you guys are resting?"

It's the wrong thing to say. It's  _all the wrong things to say,_ but Noctis can't for the life of him figure out what they want to hear. Can't grasp why they don't understand what he's trying to do. That this is all for  _them._

"Gladio," Ignis says, and he sounds as close to tears as Noctis has ever heard him. "I beg your pardon, but could you--"

"I got it, Iggy. Go on."

Ignis and Prompto leave with the Regalia, and Gladio turns to Noctis.

"I don't know what the fuck's going through your mind," he says, and while there's no anger in his voice now, there's something so casually lethal in his tone and stance it makes every hair on Noctis' body stand on end. "But we're fixing it. And we're ending these little escapes of yours. As of now, you and I are gonna be joined at the hip. You wanna act like a brat? Congrats Princess, you're gonna get treated like one."

He hops up onto Albus, pulling Noctis with him into his lap, a solid wall of muscle at his back, arms around him to prevent his escape. 

"I...I don't understand," Noctis whispers as Gladio nudges Albus into motion. "I'm just trying to  _help._ Why can't you see that? I don't mean any harm, I just--" He trails off, because already he knows he's not using the words they want to hear. 

But what do they want to hear?

The ride back to camp is silent, Gladio's strange behavior erratic enough to keep even the daemons at bay. When they make it back Albus is trembling from exhaustion, ready to bed down. Noctis reaches to do it, but finds himself hefted over Gladio's shoulder instead.

"Hey! Wait, what about Albus--"

"Prompto," Gladio says, as if he hasn't heard Noctis' voice. "Take care of Albus."

Prompto nods, and goes to bed Albus down and feed him like there's nothing wrong. Like Noctis isn't being forcibly dragged back into the tent, laid down and made to stay there beneath Gladio's grip on him while the man sleeps. 

Ignis comes in mere moments after, eyes glittering in the dark as he looks at Noctis. 

"I know this must be hard for you to understand right now, Noct," he says, and strokes a bit of hair out of his face. "But we're doing this for your own good. Please rest assured, whatever's come over you, we'll find a way to return you to normal. I vow it."

He's asleep by the time Prompto comes in. Prompto glances at Noctis, who is still wide awake, and then looks away. 

"Albus is a good bird," he murmurs. "Shouldn't be any hassle."

"Just take care of her," Noctis murmurs right back. 

Prompto doesn't react to his words. He curls up against Ignis' side, back facing Noctis, and soon his quiet snores fill the tent.

The night drags on. Noctis sees when dawn comes around the corner, and he itches to get up and move. He tries to escape Gladio's arm, but the man's grip tightens mercilessly, and so Noctis gives up.

Breakfast is made, and eaten in silence. Gladio keeps one hand on his wrist the entire time, acting as a proverbial ball and chain. When they climb into the car, it doesn't change. 

Truth be told, Noctis suspects it won't. Not for a long time.

He just wishes he could stop feeling so tired.

 

**_0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0_ **

 

Luna's death is what finally tips it all over. The lie he's been telling himself all along -  _I'm fine, I'm fine, I'm okay, I'm fine_ \- comes crashing down on top of him when he wakes up and Ignis is suddenly blind and Luna is gone. 

He's lost everyone important in his life now. Gladio and Prompto won't look at him. Ignis can't. 

 _It's a dream,_ Noctis tells himself instead.  _It has to be a dream. Luna can't be gone, not really. Right? Ignis isn't blind. He's just... it's a joke. A prank, yeah, to get me back for being stupid! It has to be that. Has to._

But it isn't. And as the days roll into weeks, the cold silence between him and his team only grows. Ignis, Prompto, Gladio... they hate him. Noctis is positive. They absolutely loathe him.

That, in the end, is what breaks him. Not the nights of no sleep, not the endless days that are only broken up by the Gods, not being chained to their side like a child, not being ignored. 

Because the truth is, he's not okay. Not even remotely. 

So when they board the train that night, and everyone else crawls into bed and sleeps, Noctis slips away to the furthest compartment in the back. Squeezes himself between the luggage racks, puts his hands over his ears, and tells himself  _you need to wake up now, you can't stay dreaming forever. Time to wake up. Wake up._

That's how Gladio finds him. Noctis opens his eyes to find bare feet in front of him, and then up to Gladio in his jeans and nothing else. His eyes are the coldest Noctis has ever seen. His gaze makes him feel worthless.

"What the hell," Gladio says, and he sounds more tired than angry. "Are you doing now, Noctis?"

"I'm trying to wake up. If I wake up, Luna will still be alive. Ignis won't be blind. So I have to wake up. A-and maybe, maybe--"

"What? What the hell are you--"

"Maybe you won't hate me anymore." He's shaking, trembling. Trying to push back the tears that want to come.  _It's just a dream, wake up, wake up._ "I know I'm not a good king. I'm not even a good Prince. But I thought if I tried - if I gave you everything you guys wanted, it would be enough. But it seemed like every time I tried to do something, I failed. And you hated me. So I stopped trying, but then you hated me more, and now--"

He's on the verge of sobbing now. And Gladio's sinking into a crouch before him, and then anger and exhaustion are gone, leaving a stark understanding in his wake. 

"I just. I just want to make you guys happy. But I can't even do that much. I'm such a fuck up, aren't I?" He laughs, and that's what breaks him. 

That, and the look on Gladio's face that says after months of not understanding what the fuck's been going on inside Noctis' head, he's finally put everything together, and seen the picture it paints.

"Noctis," he breathes, and he sounds  _horrified._ "Gods Noctis, no,  _no."_

 _"_ It's okay, you can say it, I know you hate me. I just wanted to make you proud-- I just wanted to be a good King, like dad. That's why I can't sleep, isn't it? Because I was a bad Prince, I wasn't  _there for him,_ I didn't save him--"

Gladio's crying now, shaking his head like he can't believe what he's hearing. Noctis' next words come out muffled because the man bodily scoops him up and brings him out in a hug that's more Gladio covering him with his body, as if protecting him from an unseen attacker.

_Wake up, Noctis. Gladio hates you. There's no way he's actually here, doing this. Wake up now, the fantasy has to end._

"No, Noctis," Gladio whispers into his hair. "None of this is your fault, do you hear me? I don't-- Gods above, I  _can't hate you._ You're our  _world,_ don't you see that? We knew the risks, we- we  _saw_ what could happen. Please, don't think I hate you, that Ignis or Prompto hate you. We don't.  _We can't._ "

"How could we possibly hate you?" That sounds like Ignis, just as horrified as Gladio. And there's Prompto too, looking horrified enough for the both of them. "Noctis, this whole time-- Gods, why didn't you  _say anything?!_ You foolish--" He shakes his head, and wraps an arm around Noctis' shoulders instead. Something like a muffled sob comes out of him.

"Fuck," is all Prompto says, and he hits knees-first onto the right side of them, wrapping himself around their pile as much as he can. He's crying too. They're all crying, broken wide open by the realization that Noctis has twisted himself up, blamed himself, ruined himself in the pursuit of something none of them expected him to have. 

 _Wake up,_ the little voice in Noctis' head says again, and this time, he sees the tears and hears the muffled curses against his skin, the heartbeats against his own, and something in him snaps into place, a previously disjointed piece brought back into alignment.

_I'm awake. I'm awake. This isn't a dream._

"I," Noctis sobs out, every pent-up emotion finally breaking past the dam he's built up following Regis' death. "Am not even close to being okay."

"Yeah," Gladio sob-laughs, and kisses the crown of his head. "S'okay. I don't think any of us will be. Not for a while."

"More than fine," Ignis whispers. "We're here, Noctis. We don't hate you. Or each other. So please, please never think that."

"Love you dude," Prompt says, "Wouldn't be here if we didn't."

They're not okay. Not now. But the wound's finally been torn open, the infection pushed out. With time, they can come back from this place they've found themselves in, and heal.


End file.
